SURVEY

                                                                       SURVEY

the results of the survey were not in her favour, beneficial though the

survey was in itself; she stepped down off the tripod and

put on her hourglass. Outside in thwarted magick,

depths defied a common magazine view of porthole reef,

magnitude delegation, and ritual hopscotch. Lessened

miracle in a practise, without a none toward look at trees and

indifferent calculations, numbskull reference to a knot scrambled initiation

feet of welded psychometry, wilderness within a

corpse satisfactory for yesterdays come. They asked

questions and incited a fragrant muse that would pass the time,

in jewelled fractals and crystal glass twang,

a posing dress rehearsal for tonight’s web and lightened play.

Comatose ridiculousness of all times regret, a madame

grandmother never addressed, and smelling salts with anther,

the talk was steep but there nonetheless. Was a survey required

to see into this window deep? or merely a pane of

observation, one accounted for and worked around anyway. The

lessons grasped at her throat as a rare choker unsure

of who its made for, or the designer forthwith. Delivered

and unretrieved, a greater stance shot through like

a bullet bride in summer, without chaos and too much need. A listen

at the grocers for what must really be shopped for, and in its desert,

fruitlike shapes win out to heaven.

Sand, dust, fragments and truth.

Nicolee Ferris

01.09.00